


black ink

by perhapssoon



Category: Splatoon
Genre: Body horror ig, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, a lot of goop ig so if ur uncomfy w that then this wont be great for u, eye disease thing, i dont have a name for the disease pls help me out with that, not inkblot tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2020-01-31 19:55:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18598318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perhapssoon/pseuds/perhapssoon
Summary: "Um, your eye is dripping?" The girl points to his other eye, and Aviator realizes with a jolt that he didn't even feel the other leak. He backs away, panic rising in his chest, goop slithering out from beneath the rim of his glasses. There are way too many people here and that Inkling's voice was too loud. If he got too much attention--The rest of his teammates are busy with a group of kids, separated by a mass of Inklings, and he knows he's not going to be receiving help anytime soon.The girl has her phone out now. "Do you have Inkblot?"





	black ink

**Author's Note:**

> a lil hc i had on uhhh why avi doesnt show his eyes sdhfjkdsf its p off the charts in terms of probability but i thought it would be fun to write

They win the match that day, 50.5% to 49.5%, and it's just a normal game and Purple Team has a swarm of fans as they exit the lobby which is nothing super unusual but they're all on edge today. 

Their teamwork had been somewhat shaky for the past few matches and though they pulled through, they could all feel the tension between them.

It started last week, when Paisley and Skull had a standoff in the middle of the kitchen. Aviator thought that it was about him eating too much again but it was something completely different. Paisley was ranting about how they needed to work together more, and that was why they lost to Blue Team, Skull calmly replying that there was no way teamwork would've solved the issue.

So that led to Paisley not showing up to a few practices, and Stitch followed later.

Eventually, Skull stopped holding practice because only he and Aviator showed up. It snowballed into a pile of silent treatments and flipping people off before both sides finally apologized and they had their first full practice in a month.

So it was natural they didn't work well their first match back because really, when was the last time they worked together as a team?

But their close call only worked to remind them that they needed to step up their game to get back to where they started.

Stitch and Paisley are talking as they exit the lobby, incessant chatter that drills into Aviator's mind. He already had to deal with them leaving the left flank wide open for their opponents to go through, and though they couldn't get near Skull, they still covered a lot of ground before Purple Team was able to recover.

"Guys, could you maybe be quiet for a few?" Aviator rubs his temples in annoyance, eyes burning slightly as ink threatens to come out, but Stitch frowns at him.

"We were only talking about having shwaffles later, but I guess you don't want any."

Aviator rolls his eyes behind his sunglasses, not that they could see it anyway, and Skull gives him a warning look.

He has a disease that affects his eyes, and only his eyes, dripping black ink when he cries and leaks whenever he loses his cool. It's not contagious, which is a relief to the rest of his teammates, but it's horribly similar to Inkblot, leading him to just wear sunglasses all the time to avoid being questioned.

So now, thanks to the general annoyance at his teammates, he has a thin trail of black ink snaking its way down his cheek and he quickly rolls up the sleeve of his jacket, wiping it away with the shirt underneath.

The impact of it doesn't hit him until he's out of the lobby. He's never leaked after a match. Ever.

The realization is enough to wipe his mind blank of horror. The fans are all around him, and he knows if he slips up, he's going to regret it for a long time. He plasters a half-smirk to his face and faces the crowd headon.

"Hey, Aviator!" An orange Inkling startles him, pen in hand. "Can I get an autograph?"

He forces himself to calm down, blinking away the black goop, the ink stinging his eyes. He flashes a grin at the other, raising his eyebrows. "Yeah, sure! Where do you want me to sign?"

The orange Inkling pulls out a postcard, flipping it over to show him the backside. "I wanna mail this to my sister." She blinks at him, doe-eyed innocence overwhelming. "Can you sign right here?"

She points to the line right below the postage stamp and Aviator hesitates before he shrugs lightly. "Sure, why not?"

He signs with a flourish, a bit more rushed than usual because the incident beforehand had loosened the ink in his eyes. The more he tries to keep it in, the more it crawls out, trickling down to rest on the corner of his sunglasses. His expression freezes as he tries to hold it back, but it's too late. He finishes signing and pulls away, pushing back the sleeve of his jacket to wipe his eyes on his shirtsleeve. 

"Um, your eye is dripping?" The girl points to his other eye, and Aviator realizes with a jolt that he didn't even feel the other leak. He backs away, panic rising in his chest, goop slithering out from beneath the rim of his glasses. There are way too many people here and that Inkling's voice was too loud. If he got too much attention--

The rest of his teammates are busy with a group of kids, separated by a mass of Inklings, and he knows he's not going to be receiving help anytime soon.

The girl has her phone out now. "Do you have Inkblot?" Her voice is slightly accusing though Aviator sees her pocket the postcard extremely quickly for someone who should be wary if it actually was Inkblot.

"I--" He glances around for a way to escape, all too aware of the black ink dripping from his face. "No, I don't have Inkblot."

She's recording him now, and he jerks away, covering his face. He can feel the ink on his fingers, sticky and cold, and a shudder runs through his body.

Paisley always joked that he had an intense fight or flight reaction compared to most Inklings. Either he ends up decking someone or he runs away with a speed rivaling Eging Jr's. Right now, he's feeling like he needs to leave as quickly as possible, though smashing that phone seems like a good idea.

More people are congregating around him, asking questions. Many of them have their phones out and that's enough to send him pushing through the crowd. He nearly bowls over Skull and Stitch in the process, and someone calls his name, but he doesn't stop. The goop is seeping into his shirt, trickling rivulets down his neck, and he holds his hand over his eyes as he runs, blindly shoving aside Inklings aside as he heads into the clothing shop, the only vendor he knows to possess a working bathroom. He almost crashes into the door trying to get inside and once he's safely within the tiled walls does he take his hands away from his face.

His sunglasses are coated in the substance and he takes them off, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His pupils are reduced to small pinpricks, glowing white in a mass of black, the black now running down his face like mini waterfalls. Mentally cursing himself, he grabs a handful of paper towels and scrubs at his face, wiping away the layers of ink. His jacket is ruined, as is his shirt, but he just shoves a paper towel between his skin and the fabric and scrapes off what he can into the sink. He can't replace them now, he needs to clean himself up first and get the shell out of here. 

His heart rate is still going through the roof and he grips the edges of the sink, staring down the drain. He can feel the ink running down his face again and he angles it so it falls into the sink. His blood is pounding in his ears. If that girl posts that video...

He picks up his sunglasses, and while he knows that they are ruined too, he still tries to get most of the gunk off. It falls into the sink with a plop that echoes in the empty bathroom and he winces slightly. The ink seems to be receding a bit so he wipes off what he can and puts his glasses back on. 

If it weren't for the stain along the sleeves and the front of jacket, he would've looked normal.

Aviator takes a path around the Square, using the back door of the shop, and walks the long way back to Team Purple base. He can barely see through his glasses, but the only thing running through his mind is that he can't leak again, he can't leak again, he can't leak again.

He almost drops the key trying to unlock the door and stumbles inside, collapsing on the couch. His eyes are dripping black ink again, but it's tears this time. He doesn't know what to do. He just exposed himself in public, and with the general mind of an average Inkling, they would immediately assume he has Inkblot, even if he refuted the accusation. That would cause a shit ton more mess than necessary since a case of Inkblot hasn't happened in the past century.

He presses his hands over his eyes, feeling the black trickle around his ears. He needs to stop the girl from posting the video but everyone has such itchy posting fingers that it probably went viral already.

The door opens and closes, but he doesn't look up.

The couch dips under the newcomer's weight, and from the faintly sweet scent that floats through the room, Aviator can deduce that it's Skull.

They sit there in silence for a few minutes before the other Inkling speaks up, voice quiet.

"You okay?"

"Mmm... if you were recorded while your eyes were leaking black goo, would you be okay?" He can't stop the snarky response from spilling out of him, yet Skull doesn't retaliate.

He sits up, wiping away the ink for what seems like the billionth time today, and glances at his leader. "...Thanks for asking though." He offers a weak smile, but Skull doesn't return the expression. Instead, the other's staring long and hard at the wall in front of him, like it will suddenly start doing flips in midair if he looks long enough.

There's a lengthy pause before Skull speaks again. "I tracked the girl down. Told her to delete the video. She refused. She posted it. If I could've done more, I would. I told her it wasn't Inkblot, but she didn't seem like she believed me. Paisley and Stitch are working on getting the video down before anyone sees."

Aviator can feel his breath shorten, and he drops his head into his hands. He wants to cry of pent up emotion, but his instincts, telling him to keep it in, to not let anyone see, are too strong and he feels like his eyes are going to explode.

Skull moves closer to Aviator and gently tugs him sideways, holding his second-in-command against his chest. "It's okay." His voice vibrates through Aviator, cutting through the whirling thoughts. "Let it out."

And Aviator does. The tears come hot and fast, viscous and goopy, clogging the areas around his glasses, falling onto his lap, staining it dark. He takes off his sunglasses and blindly drops them somewhere and lets Skull pull his face into his chest. He briefly wonders if Skull's okay with needing to get new clothes. 

His whole body is shakes violently from silent sobs and Skull's grip on him tightens and, knowing Skull, Aviator understands it as some kind of protection. Gratitude for his friend overflows into more tears and his fingers dig into the back of Skull's shirt, Skull himself just rocking back and forth, hands carefully stroking Aviator's tentacles.

It seems like forever, but it's only a few minutes before Aviator can pull himself together again. He detaches himself from Skull -- it's pretty much that he has to actively pull away as the goop almost attached his face to his friend's shirt -- and Skull offers him an entire box of tissues. Aviator takes it with a half-grin and proceeds to use half the box to wipe residue off his face, clothes, and the sofa, giving the rest back to Skull to clean up himself.

"Sorry about your shirt," he says by way of closure and Skull's eyes crinkle slightly at the edges.

"We can go shopping tomorrow."

Skull's cell phone rings then, and when he answers, it's Paisley on the other end of the line.

_"We took down the video. Hacked the system and everything. Hope you're doing okay."_

"We're fine." Skull glances at Aviator to confirm and the other Inkling nods. "Thanks."

The phone clicks off and Aviator half expects Skull to leave, but the Purple Team leader just puts his phone away and leans his head against Aviator’s shoulder, the latter tensing slightly at the sudden contact. 

He relaxes slowly, laying his own head on Skull’s and closing his eyes.  

They stay like that until Paisley and Stitch come home. 

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos extend my life by fifty years


End file.
